


What Remains of the Crimson Tree

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Beta Malia, F/M, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: Malia is set up to marry Scott and Stiles, a mated alpha pair. Unsure why they want her, a beta, and not an omega, she begrudgingly agrees to help her kingdom and spare her sister from a similar fate. She expects it to be boring and awful, but she doesn't know Scott or Stiles and how they handle things.





	1. Chapter 1

Malia tried to control her leg, which continuously bobbed under her sweltering green dress. There were too many strings and corsets to be comfortable. Why did people wear this sort of thing, it’s not like they could fight in it. She reminded herself that in a lot of cultures, even her own, women tended not to fight and thus were trapped in lace. 

She heard the chaplain continue to drone on about the beauty of marriage and sacrifice, of bringing two worlds together. She knew she should be paying attention, but it was all for show and she wished she didn’t have to be here, in this place she did not know. She let out a grumble, but swallowed it last minute. It’s not that she hated Beacon Hills; on the contrary they had open fields and many forests to run in and explore. She could have loved it here, if she was visiting. But now, she had to live here and there were sure to be rules that she would be expected to live by.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing she could itch her head but that would rupture the immense artwork that her hair had been contorted into, and though that wouldn’t have bothered her, it would have bothered her alpha, which she could not afford. Or worse, her new alphas. 

They sat equally side by side, long capes of red and white in a puddle around them, both frowning. One had a crooked jaw, the other a smooth face. Both had brown eyes, though they were unalike in personality. The one with a kind mouth and crooked jaw had sweet, open eyes, and seemed to be trying to stay awake. His mate’s eyes looked to be laughing, and they caught her staring. She blinked, surprised, but he only gave her a small smirk and rolled his eyes at the chaplain who was saying something about service and duty. 

She grinned for the first time in days at the man, who lightly elbowed the other alpha. He snapped straight up, like he really had almost fallen asleep. He glared at his mate, but glanced at her and feigned a yawn. 

As a beta, she felt no biological draw to mate, especially not with alphas. But she could still appreciate their beauty, she could still have fun. She could still fall in love. 

She squashed the feeling, knowing that was not the point of her being here. This was a political move, nothing more. She was going to be a courtesan of the Delgado’s, to serve a new kingdom. A whore, as her father had put it before he sent her off across the landscape to Beacon Hills. They had heard of her valor in battle, had seen her dance at a ball, and were intrigued. Like she was meat or a toy, she thought as she sighed and looked at her lap. She had to reign in who she was, like she had in her father’s court, but now all the time. 

Could she still dance about her room naked, spin through the woods, sing with the staff? She doubted it and felt her body grow chilled through all her lays. Her father had never been kind, but he had allowed her to do as she pleased. She was never meant to be a princess like her younger sister, she was meant to be a soldier, and now look at her. Dolled up with makeup and a prison of a dress, waiting to be given to two men who she didn’t know. 

The chaplain, in his stuffy red gown, motioned for her and she stood much too quickly, blood rushing to her head. She managed not to trip as she glided forward, blessing her solid feet. The two alphas stood together, like they had been practicing and met her in the middle of the large room. There were only a handful of people there, because this wasn’t a fancy mating ceremony. This was just…a transaction. Her father nodded at her and she curtsied while feeling utterly ridiculous. The alphas shared a look and bowed to her deeply before they both took her hand in a way that made her feel respected. That only added to her confusion, because she had been led to believe that alphas, especially kings, were above everyone else. 

“You are now of this kingdom, of this family, and of the great legacy of the Delgado reign,” said another man with curly blonde hair and large blue eyes. He tripped over the words but the man with moles and laughing eyes gave him a thumbs up.

She bowed lowly, but they kept a hold of her hand to steady her and help her stand again. The air was heavy was nerves and uneasiness that she was sure it had to be more than just her own. 

“Come,” said the man with the kind eyes, keeping her hand in his. He wasn’t commanding her, but he led her out of the room gently. The other alpha followed them and patted her arm in an attempt to comfort her, but she glanced over her puffy shoulder to see her father. He did not meet her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Malia was led through many corridors filled with paintings and bright colors. Tapestries with the Delgado seal hung on the walls, but did not seem overbearing. Servants said hello to the men who walk beside her and gave her small passing smiles. She wanted to stop and speak to them, to find out more about Beacon Hills and the men who ruled it. Malia could smell their contentedness and nerves, and she fretted that they could smell her fear in return. She was quickly ushered away and she didn’t understand why. Worried, she peeked over her shoulder at some maids. They were huddled together whispering conspiratorially. A guard watched over them, a woman with blonde hair and sharp eyes. The guard caught her eye and nodded at her, as if she read her mind. Malia was jerked around a corner, almost ripping on the green lace bottom of her dress, and the woman was out of sight. 

The pattern of the castle was confusing and not at all like her home. Though, she supposed this was her home now. She glanced at the man who held her hand as he grinned at his mate, jovially bantering and laughing together. Should she say something? Or would that be too bold? Malia was being uncharacteristically quiet, but they didn’t know that. She bit her lip and kept her chin forward. She might be a whore now, but she had dignity. She was mustering up the courage to butt into their conversation when they stopped at a wooden door, ornate with iron.

“Woah, that was awful, yeah?” said the man who still held her hand as the other chuckled. 

“You could say that, Scott,” said the other, turning to her with big eyes, “are you alright?”

Scott, his name was Scott. That solved half the mystery of the moment with this alpha pair. “I don’t even know who you are,” she said before wincing. She wasn’t watching her tongue and it was going to get her into trouble. 

Scott looked mortified, mouth agape as his partner mumbled ‘shit’ under his breath. Scott squeezed her hand and she noticed that it was rough, probably from sword work, and strong. “Malia,” Scott said, ducking his head down so he could be eye to eye with her, “I’m Scott Delgado, and this is my mate.” 

“Stiles Delgado,” he said with suaveness, bowing lowly to her. She smiled and curtseyed, feeling more sure footed now that she knew the names of her alphas. The disorientation softened and her heart sped up with her breathlessness. 

“Stiles?” Malia said, squinting at the flames in the lanterns behind them. What a strange name. She liked it. She swayed on her feet and clutched ever tighter to Scott’s hand to try and steady herself. Had he just been holding her hand to comfort her? How quaint and sweet. 

Malia felt a surge of lightheadedness and suddenly the world was black.  
~~~  
She awoke to the sound of her name, and the feeling on the stone floor cold and solid beneath her. She tried to open her eyes and sit up all at once and immediately swallowed vomit. 

“Hey, hey,” she heard from above her. Scott’s voice, maybe. “You’re fine, we got you.”

“Don’t get up yet,” said Stiles. Must of have been Stiles. Her head swam and she could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes. 

“What happened?” she slurred, opening her eyes to blurry vision and too harsh light. She was in what she could assume was the room they had been standing in front of. She wasn’t sure how she’d moved.

Malia reached across her body and felt that her dress was in disarray. 

“You fainted, lack of oxygen,” Stiles stated, kneeling near her, cape thrown aside in a mess of red. 

“We had to loosen your corset, we’re sorry,” Scott said from behind her. Her head rested in his lap and his hands were resting on her shoulders. “Shall we call the nurse?”

“Damn this dress,” she spat, face hot and ashamed. She must seem silly, or weak, to have been put in such a contraption. It’s not like they weren’t going to see her corsets, hell, they’d see more than her corsets, but she had just learned who they were. 

Malia’s eyes welled up and she rolled off Scott’s lap and onto the floor. She would not sob in front of them. She would not appear weaker. “You must leave,” she whispered, arms around her middle in an attempt to wrangle her ribbons and baubles. 

Stiles opened his mouth to argue but Scott placed a hand on his leg and silenced him. “Of course, Malia,” Scott said gently, rising to his feet and helping Stiles stand as well. They slinked out of her room like kicked dogs, heads down and solemn.

Stiles stopped at her door way and called, “we are two doors down, if you need us,” before closing the door with a soft clang. 

Malia slumped over herself, body wracking from trying not to wail. She crawled over to the bed, covered in green and blue satin and velvet. She’d be touched that they knew her favorite colors if this wasn’t the worst day of her life. Tears fell onto a deep sea green pillow as she stuffed her face in it and screamed. 

The door might be unlocked, but she was a prisoner here.


	3. Chapter 3

Malia blinked awake lazily. She flung herself up, momentarily unsure where she was. She didn’t recognize the room and she squinted. Her situation barreled into her and she frowned, touching her face to see if this was real. It was. 

The tears from last night clogged up her face and she groggily made her way to the bowl of water that sat on a table near the door. 

A little tray of bread and fruit was pushed against the wall near the wash bin, and Malia wondered how she hadn’t heard anyone come in to give it to her. No one had ever brought her food before. 

As the water cleared traces of her sorrow away she thought about hiding in the room for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of time. She would be antsy and surely go insane. She thought about not eating, of wasting away. Her stomach gurgled and she sighed, her day dream crumbling. She knew that someone would come for her eventually, and her lust for life was too strong to stay coped up, anyway. 

There was a gentle knock on the door and Malia stared at the noise, unsure who it could be. Was it the alphas? There was silence on the other side before another knock. 

“Mrs. Delgado?” came through the door, gravely and feminine. 

Malia almost didn’t say anything; she was sure this person had the wrong room. Then she realized that her name wasn’t Tate anymore. She didn’t choose this. They took her name from her? No, her father did. 

She huffed in a breath to calm herself and opened the door slowly, uncovering a short red haired woman with a pile of clothes in her arms. She pushed in past Malia and began laying outfits onto the bed, murmuring to herself that someone needed to clean up. Before Malia could comment the woman turned in a blaze of skirts and hair and said, “I’m Lydia. I take care of what you wear and I will help you be presentable.” 

Maila’s frown deepened as she peeked over Lydia’s shoulder at the three dresses. No pants, though Malia didn’t know what she was expecting. This wasn’t her home where no one cared what she wore. 

Lydia continued into the silence, “Now, choose an outfit to wear today and one to wear tonight, Mrs. Delgado.”

Malia’s eyebrow rose. “Two outfits?” They all seemed so decorated and flashy, and who needed to wear so many clothes? 

Lydia seemed to be trying not to roll her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Delgado, as is custom.”

“I don’t know many of the customs,” Malia explained, irritated at her tone and being called a Delgado. But she couldn’t argue with it without sounding like a fool. 

Lydia softened and sighed. “I’m sorry, we are having a nice welcome dinner for you, and everyone will be wearing different attire.”

Malia shifted one foot to the other. A dinner, for her? That was kind, but unnecessary. She bit her lip and glanced at the dresses. One was green, like the one she wore last night, but darker. Her heart pounded at the memory of the forest back home, dark with the shadow of night and quickly looked at the next dress. It was light blue, like the sky, and she realized she hadn’t been outside since she entered the castle. Her muscles ached for the stretch of exercise and she wanted a breeze through her hair. She sighed and touched the last dress. It was a deep purple with lace, but came with no dangerous thoughts. It was the safest option. 

“I’ll wear this one tonight,” she motioned, before picking up the blue one with just a simple lay of pleats. 

“Let me help you, please,” Lydia chided, stepping up and making quick work of Malia’s underclothes. Malia grimaced. She was on display, again, in a foreign place with an unknown person. 

Lydia worked nimbly, though, and had Malia dressed within minutes. Lydia nodded, looking almost smugly at her work. Malia took a couple steps and found the dress didn’t restrict her as much as she had feared it would. 

“Your up-do is a little undone from last night,” Lydia commented, picking at tuffs of hair sticking out. Malia tried to help her wrangle her hair together, but Lydia shooed her hands away. After a few pulls and tugs, her hair was pristine again. 

Lydia walked away and stood in the corner, as if she was just a part of the furniture, though she also stood out too much to quite make her appearance unnoticeable. 

Malia was unsure what she was supposed to say. At home she had mostly been on her own, not being underfoot of servants. 

“Thank you,” Malia tried, shifting towards the door. Lydia smiled and curtseyed, and Malia returned her actions. Lydia was confused, her mouth agape, but Malia slipped out to door.

Right into the guard from last night. 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Malia said, trying to recover from running into armor. The woman chuckled and shook her head, blonde hair sweeping down her face. 

“No harm done, Mrs. Delgado,” she said, grinning at Malia. 

That damn name, Malia thought, but she tried not to show her annoyance. She straighten and said, “I’ll just be going.” That was normal enough, wasn’t it?

The guard shrugged and said, “The Kings would love to speak to you, ma’am.” 

Malia couldn’t control her body stiffing up at the thought of dealing with them right now. She tried to relax and not look the guard in the eye, but failed when the guard caught her eye. 

The guard frowned sympathetically but didn’t comment. “They are in the garden, shall I escort you?”

Malia could try to find it on her own, or sneak off, but it was likely everyone would tell the alphas where she was anyway. 

“I would love that, thank you, um…” Malia trailed off, not knowing the guard’s name.

She nodded and began walking briskly down the hall. Malia scurried after her, her slippers clacking, echoing off the stone walls. “I don’t know your name.”

The guard slowed down to a softer pace and glanced back at Malia saying, “I’m Erica, your highness.”

Malia blanched at the title and kept up her odd jog. “I’m Malia.”

Erica giggled behind her hand, but moved her eyes forward. “I know ma’am.”

“I wish someone would call me my fucking name,” she whispered to herself, but the wall pushed it back to her. 

“If that is what you want, Malia, then I must do it for you,” Erica whispered as they turned to the right. In front of them was a towering pine door. Around it curled ivy, bright and lush. It loomed, old and haunting. Malia’s excitement flowed down to her feet and she became impatient. Erica opened it with effort and allowed Malia out into the sun. 

It blinded her for a moment before the garden came into view. Roses and sunflowers arched towards the sky to her right and a pond gurgled calmly to her left. Ahead of her looked like some kind of maze with high bushes and benches lining them. 

With gentle feet Malia crept onto the grass. There was quiet mumbling coming from the maze, but she was out of sight. After a moment, she kicked off her shoes and spun around the flowers, arms in the air. She wanted to live out there, in the sun and the smell of dirt. A weight shifted in her back and she smiled for the first time that day. 

Malia felt eyes on her and spun around to find Erica now guarding the door to the castle, her eyes laughing at Malia. She did not seem to be judging her so Malia kept smiling and ran to the maze. The grass was tall and soft, caressing her feet and her dress. She wanted to roll in it, but figured Lydia wouldn’t approve of her ruining her dresses. What a pity, this is why she needed pants. Maybe she could steal some and sneak out into the garden at night?

The talking grew louder and Malia slowed down, trying to overhear her alphas’ conversation. 

“I don’t know how to make it up to her,” Stiles bemoaned while Scott sighed. 

“I don’t know,” Scott emphasized, “how to make this easier for her.”

“We could do something fun!” Stiles said brightly, and Malia heard him move.

“We don’t even know what she likes,” Scott said, sounding unconvinced. 

“I know what you like,” Stiles whispered and Scott growled. Malia’s face bloomed pink and she was stuck between interrupting them and ruining their moment or listening. Pierced with indecision she stood still and listened to the rustling of clothing against clothing. To her embarrassment she liked how they sounded. 

There was a moan and Malia’s face become redder. Ashamed that the sounds were turning her on, she coughed and stepped around the corner. 

Scott and Stiles looked at her, surprised, before gazing at each other again. Stiles pulled Scott’s face in and gave him a sweet kiss before letting go and standing up to greet her. Scott grinned and followed his lead. Stiles offered her his hand, bowing with Scott. Malia’s mouth was dry as she shakily bowed in return and gently touched Stiles’s hand. 

He began to lead her down the maze without force and Scott took her other hand, squeezing it. 

Malia was grounded by the feel of their hands, her screaming, lost spirit began to breathe. It startled her how unafraid she suddenly was, how kind they were being. Why was this all so confusing?

She had so much to say and had no idea how to say it. These men were her husbands, but she barely knew them. Perhaps she should try. 

“I painted back home,” she blurted, causing both men to jerk. She bit her lip and shrugged. “I also liked to draw and read to my sister.”

Scott and Stiles shared a look and Scott smiled softly, gazing at her. He giddily answered, “I love reading and fencing. Stiles is the real artist though.”

Stiles scoffed from her side and rolled his eyes, “I write pretty well, I’ll admit it, but your pottery is amazing.”

Scott sighed in response but it was playful. Then he eyed her and whispered conspiratorially, “you must teach us how to paint, Malia.”

Hearing him say her name made her heart jump into her throat. Was she blushing? She couldn’t hide her face with her hands being caressed so she bent her head down. 

Stiles added, “we would love to learn from you,” with an earnest expression, trying to look into her eyes.

Malia was sure, almost completely, that they were being sincere. Malia still wondered why she was there, but the fear she felt was deadening. 

“Alright, I will,” she promised, chuckling at them as Stiles kissed her hand enthusiastically and Scott laughed, eyes dancing.

“Maybe after dinner? If it’s not too much?” Scott offered and Stiles nodded stopping in the maze. 

“We’d be honored, Malia,” Stiles added, taking Scott’s free hand in his own. They fit so well together, Malia thought. She was glad no one seemed to take offense to their monarchy being run by two alphas. They were made to be together. She remembered that she was their wife now and felt herself grow smaller. How did she fit into this marriage? 

“Malia?” Scott murmured, leaning in close to her and bringing her hand to his chest. 

“I’m sorry, this is just a lot,” she whispered, sucking in her bottom lip. 

Stiles followed the movement with his eyes and let go of her hand to grasp her chin. He tilted it up and said,“We’ll be here to help you, okay?”

“Yeah, just tell us if you get overwhelmed,” Scott said, smiling down at her. 

Malia was boxed in but she didn’t feel trapped. On the contrary, she felt safe. 

“Okay, okay…” she tried, putting her head on Stiles’s chest. She tried not to second guess why it felt natural to do so. “We can paint after dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Sorry it took me so long to update, so here is a longer chapter. As always, please comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to give comments! Thank you.


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